Meleth: Los'lóriel
by Asha Dreamweaver
Summary: GlorfindelErestor. When Glorfindel returns to ME, he finds his attention caught by a haunted advisor with a dark past. Between the outbreak of a war, and Erestor’s own demons, can Glorfindel win his love, and survive the darkness?
1. The First Ship

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MELETH: LOS'LÓRIEL BY ASHA DREAMWEAVER

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Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any OC's.

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Summary: Glorfindel/Erestor. When Glorfindel returns to ME, he finds his attention caught by a haunted advisor with a dark past. Between the outbreak of a war, and Erestor's own demons, can Glorfindel win his love, and survive the darkness?

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Author's Notes: This is SLASH, people. This means a male/male relationship. If you are homophobic, don't read past this point.

You have been warned. No flames accepted because of this as proper warnings have been given!

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CHAPTER ONE: THE FIRST SHIP

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Lindon, the year 1610 of the Second Age.

_fire and blood… the sharp clash of steel and the sound of fair Elvish voices twisted in anger and malice… he ran through the crowded streets, full of the dead and the panicking hordes, his little dagger clutched tightly in his hand… when the sons of Fëanor came bearing wrath and ruin, his father had said, 'twas best to have cold steel in your hand to meet that in theirs._

His adar (father) had fallen to such steel, the cold sword of the Fëanoriath slicing him open from chest to navel. His naneth (mother) had screamed then, bereft at the loss of her mate, and had rushed her bereth's (spouse's) murderer with little concern for her own safety. It had ended as many things had that day; in death and tears.

Little Erestor, a mere stripling of only twenty years at the time, recognising the futility of such a challenge, had fled, an action that would haunt him throughout the long years of his life. Racing through the mad and swarming streets of Arvernien, he had ran for his very life, dodging the big Elves with their shining swords, and instinctively heading for the horse's paddock, where the only friend left to him in the world resided. But as he reached the stable, his parents' bloodied forms materialised in front of him; scorn and shame on their faces and malice on their tongues.

"Erestor, my shameful son, why did you not try to save me?" his naneth hissed, her fair face warped with rage.

Erestor shrank back from her dark wrath, and behind her, his adar approached, blood still pooling from the wound that killed him, "Is this my son?" the deep voice rumbled in disgust, "Is this the coward I have sired? You let those dogs run us down! So take the name you have earned, - Kinslayer!"

Erestor's eyes went rapidly from deep reverie to shocked awareness as he bolted upright. Placing a hand over his chest to try to calm his racing heart, he frantically scanned the room for intruders, but the only sounds were the harsh, panting breaths of his own fear, and the faint sound of waterfalls in the background.

Sighing, he closed his eyes and tried to will his fear away. He was safe. Safely ensconced in his chambers in Lindon. Lindon, not Arvernien. Arvernien would never be again, and her horrors rested on the bottom of the sea in Ulmo's care.

When he had regained enough of his composure to stop the trembling of his limbs, he pushed the soft bedcovers off of himself, and rose from the warm bed, ignoring the slight chill seeping through his sleep clothes.

The moon was not yet waning, and 'twas a time where sane Elves were lost in reverie or locked in sweet slumber with their loved ones. But as was the case so often of late, such a fate was not for him. He padded silently into the next room, wearily seating himself in front of his desk, overflowing with the mounds of papers and records that went into the governing of Gil-galad's household.

Following his established pattern when the fear within him boiled over, he would work himself until either morning came or slumber took him without the dark claws of nightmares. For there was no return to sleep when he woke from their torment, and he would not demean himself so by admitting to Elrond that he needed an herbal aid to sleep.

The dreams had been steadily increasing in intensity as the years had passed by, for no apparent reason that the sharp witted counsellor could discern. But as they became more frequent in their torment, so did he become more fatigued and his temper more short. Steadily but surely, the sweet tempered Erestor of old was being replaced by this cool counsellor, ever ready with sharp glares and even sharper words.

And he could not find it within himself to stem the tide of change.

Pushing such dark thoughts out of his mind, he forced his tired mind to focus on the task at hand and picking up the quill, he serenely set about working himself into a stupor.

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The sun had had been up for quite a few hours ere any soul wandered near Erestor's secluded chambers. But as the advisor had been missing from an arranged meeting with them, an unthinkable occurrence when it came to Erestor, Elrond had decided to seek out his friend to see what was the matter, and Gil-galad, eager to get this most mundane matter out of the way, came with him.

Tapping lightly on the solid wood of the dark advisor's door, Elrond frowned when he heard no response.

Pushing open the door, his face deepened with concern as he observed his friend, slumped over his desk in the far corner of the room, silky dark tresses spread atop the wooden surface, and his fair face locked in a restless slumber, half-buried amid a large mound of papers and documents.

Making sure that Gil-galad could see this disturbing sight, Elrond entered in. The Eldar did not normally sleep with their eyes closed, unless they were weary beyond endurance, and Erestor slept so strangely; and from the dark circles under his eyes, he had obviously worked himself to the bone again, with nary a thought to his own health.

Silently slipping into the room, he was followed by the High King, who also considered himself a friend of Erestor, even if the advisor would not have dared presume that a king would bother with one so lowly. The Noldo's low opinion of himself was something that grated on his friends' nerves, but though they had made many attempts, it seemed there was no assuaging it.

"He is exhausted beyond measure," Elrond said, after a moment of checking on his sleep-locked friend, "And his sleep if yet fitful. I fear it does him little good."

"Will he not accept one of your tinctures to aid his sleep if he is so weary?" Gil-galad asked, "Or does he still deny that ought is wrong?"

"Erestor would deny that anything was the matter if a sword was protruding from him," Elrond answered wryly, "And he is remarkably clear about ensuring that you know not to bother pressing him farther without actually saying so."

"Aye, he is good at that," Gil-galad agreed, "But what do you propose we do now? I am loathe to wake him for the sake of a mere discussion on supplies. It can be delegated to some less hardworking advisor. Eru knows that there are enough of them! Indeed, I think I shall have to forcibly order him to take a few days of rest, and even then, I am sure, that he will find some way to get around that order."

Elrond smirked and nodded, "A true assessment, mellon nín (my friend) but for now, I think that he should be left to his rest, albeit in a more comfortable place. The very sight of him sleeping on that desk gives me a crick in my neck."

"Can you handle him or should I?" Gil-galad ventured, trying to figure out how to move the ellon (he-Elf) without waking him.

Elrond sensed the direction his thoughts had taken, "He sleeps the sleep of the bone-weary, my friend, he will not wake unless he senses danger."

The half-Elf gently scooped his friend up, frowning once more at the too light weight of the Elf, and carried him into the next room, depositing him on the bed after Gil-galad had turned down the covers, and gently covered him before exiting.

Closing the wooden door behind him, Elrond did not bother to hide his concern from the king. "His problem worsens."

"We cannot help him if he refuses to tell us what is wrong, Elrond, Erestor is too prideful to admit he needs help. He will suffer in silence until he collapses."

"Something troubles him, I can tell," Elrond said, musing aloud, "Some dark matter weighs upon his mind. Ai! Curse his stiff neck! He cares nothing for his own welfare, and it pains me to see him so worn."

Gil-galad placed a hand on Elrond's shoulder in a comforting gesture, "You cannot cure all the ills in the world, pen neth (young one), especially in those who refuse to acknowledge them. He is a strong Elf, he will come through whatever is bothering him. All we can do is let him know that we shall be there if he needs someone to talk to."

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Erestor's shame upon waking to find that not only had he slept the day away, but had so inconvenienced his lords, was most considerable. Endeavouring to make up for, what he thought, was an abominable transgression; he poured himself into his work all the more to make amends for his supposed slip.

And so when it came time for Elrond to meet with him to discuss the plans for the upcoming winter solstice festival, Erestor's desk resembled a tottering mountain made of paper more so than any construction of wood.

"Erestor!" Elrond exclaimed in annoyance as he took in the advisor's massive workload, "I thought Gil-galad told you that you were to rest!"

Erestor just looked blankly at the Elvenlord, "My lord, I need to get these plans done." he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, "The solstice cannot be found lacking just because of… one Elf's ill-advised mistake."

"Ill-advised mistake!" Elrond repeated incredulously, "You worked yourself into a exhaustion! You should be resting!"

"With all due respect my lord, there are matters that will not wait." Erestor said deferentially, only increasing Elrond's ire at his friend's sheer stubbornness.

"Erestor," Elrond said slowly and deliberately, "Your King ordered you to rest. Why are you not doing so?"

Erestor did not even stop his paperwork frenzy to answer Elrond's question, "I know full well that I let him down," he said, "There is no need for you to blunt the truth Elrond. I erred, and I intend to make amends for it. Now, what are the King's preferences for the feast?"

Elrond could only stare at the wily advisor, before groaning inwardly. Erestor was Erestor, stubborn to a fault and ever willing to twist your words round until he got what he wanted.

If the dark advisor would not listen to the him, then obviously Elrond would have to bring in someone of more consequence. He would really like to see Erestor try to refuse Ereinion Gil-galad.

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The Grey Havens, the year 1610 of the Second Age.

As he disembarked the white swan ship, he was acutely aware of the silence that proceeded him. No ship had come out of the West to Middle Earth since the War of Wrath, and even if such an occurrence had not been so rare, the traveller's glorious past and reputation would have been enough to ensure that the Elves of Mithlond gathered on the docks to see him arrive.

To the onlookers, he made a striking sight. Tall and well-built with the obvious strength of a warrior without peer; his golden hair, the colour of Anor herself, fell down his back like a river of silk; his eyes, as blue as the most precious of sapphires, bore wisdom and merriment in their sharp glance; and as he descended from the Telerin ship, the glow of the Blessed Realm shone about him, marking him as powerful amongst the Eldar.

Uneasy with all the attention he was getting, Glorfindel of the House of the Golden Flower of Gondolin in an age past, walked down the docks to the silver-haired, bearded figure that awaited him; one familiar face in a sea of strangers.

"Círdan!" he greeted happily, pulling his long time friend the mariner into a hug which the Shipwright delightedly returned.

"Glorfindel, mellon nín," Círdan said, "'Tis a delight to see you on these Hither Shores again. Long has it been since we last met."

"An age, my friend, an age." Glorfindel agreed, ignoring the crowd of gaping and awestruck Elves to follow the Shipwright into his halls.

"It would seem that you have quite the legion of admirers," Círdan said, lips twitching in mirth.

Glorfindel rolled his eyes at the Sinda, glad to see that the easy camaraderie of yore was quickly being restored between them, "They stare at me like I was Morgoth himself." he complained.

"Tales of your deeds exist in all the Elven realms," Círdan said, "And many songs are sung about the deeds of Glorfindel the Valiant. You are quite famous on these shores, my friend, and especially for the younger Elves, you are as a legend come to life. And with your rebirth… well, let me just say that your fame is assured, and that you will most likely have Elves falling all over you wherever you go."

Glorfindel grimaced at the very notion, and was glad to gain the safety of Círdan's private suite, "I come here at the Valar's will, not to be sport for gossip."

"Your death cemented your glory, Glorfindel, you cannot erase the memories of your deeds from their minds. They adore you most likely."

"My death was painful enough without having to listen to its dramatisation." Glorfindel said tightly.

"Lord Elrond will most likely take that into account and mention to the High King that tales of Gondolin should be kept to a minimum, but I fear your arrival in Lindon will cause a great stir. It is to Lindon that you are to go, yes?"

"Yes, to guard what remnant there is of the kin of Eärendil," he answered.

Círdan's surprise was patent, "But not Gil-galad?"

"The High King? No, the House of Elrond is my charge, though the Valar were most closemouthed concerning the details of what I am supposed to be doing here."

"Elrond is the only one of that house left on these shores," Círdan said, "And he is a scholar, a healer and a warrior. He does not need such protection for Gil-galad helped raise him after he was released from the clutches of the Fëanoriath, and took both Elrond and Elros under his wing."

"I know not the reasoning, only the charge," Glorfindel said wearily, "The world has changed mellon nín. So much so that I scarcely know what I am doing here."

"Aye, much has changed since Beleriand sank into the sea," Círdan agreed solemnly, "But you must not despair, pen neth, the Valar would scarcely have levelled such a burden on you without ensuring that you would have some reward or succour for your labours."

A comfortable silence reigned until the sharp grey eyes of the Shipwright landed on Glorfindel's weary expression and he urged his friend to take some rest, bidding him to sleep away his fatigue and leaving the Elda to his thoughts.

Staring out the window at the strange coastline, so much changed since his first arrival in Middle Earth after the terror and toil of the Helcaraxë, the Grinding Ice that he had crossed with the host of Fingolfin and he wondered at the Valar's reason for sending him back after nearly two millennia in Mandos Halls.

While the Valar had given him this task, Elbereth had hinted that something awaited him in Middle Earth which he would not want to miss. He knew not what she meant, but he did know what he hoped he would find here.

He was eager to see the sole remaining son of Eärendil, whom he had known as a child and had loved him as the Prince of Gondolin; what tales he had heard of Elrond all marked him out to be an Elvenlord of such calibre that there were perhaps one born in an age of his like.

Also he had been grateful to meet Círdan again, the Shipwright had awoke with the first of the Elves and was the oldest Sinda to still dwell in Middle Earth, and had vowed to stay there until the Last Ship sailed into the West.

Of Lindon he had heard much also, and while he was curious to see the realm of Gil-galad, nephew to the mighty Galadriel, he wondered how he was to manage his service to Elrond when the Half-Elven Lord both served the High King, and dwelled with him in his halls.

But what he really wanted to find on these shores was such a thing that he could only dream of. Even when he dwelt in Gondolin in happier times, he had never found the one who was a partner to his soul, had never taken a mate, or known love.

While he had had countless lovers, none had ever stirred his heart, and though he had not been aware of the loneliness of such a position at the time, after his rebirth, he felt it most keenly.

Now that he had earned himself such renown as to have ellyth (she-Elves) and Ellyn (he-Elves) chase him just for his name and past deeds, he was all too aware that his chances of finding one to share his heart with were very small indeed.

Ever since his rebirth in Aman, he had been cognizant of a gaping hole in his very soul, a part of him that wished to love and be loved in return that he had long ignored in his previous life.

It was ironic that at the time he had been free to seek a love, he had not wanted one; and now that he wanted one, he was bound to serve the House of Elrond for as long as the Lord dwelled in Middle Earth.

Stretching himself out on the bed, he let himself drift into reverie rather than dwelling on wishes that would not be realised, but as he walked in Elven dreams, Irmo, the Vala of visions and dreams was nudged by Vaire, the Weaver of fates, and concentrating on the golden lord, he sent him dreams of a love not yet found, but that may well be within his grasp soon.

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Ereinion Gil-galad looked at the missive on his desk with no little amount of surprise. Círdan's letter had been no small shock, but it did tell them that a great boon was coming his way most unexpectedly.

Glorfindel, Lord of the House of the Golden Flower, hero of Gondolin, had returned to Middle Earth by the will of the Valar.

Círdan's letter also said something about the reborn Elf seeking out what remained of the kin of Tuor and Eärendil.

But that powerful and renowned Elvenlord was coming to Lindon, and if Gil-galad could persuade him to stay on as one of his captain's, then he just might have enough trusted and skilled captains to prepare for the war that he knew in his heart was coming.

But first, it was time to spread the good news.

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"Glorfindel of Gondolin?" Elrond gasped, "Reborn? And coming here? Ai, this will cause uproar!"

The High King of the Noldor smiled with wry amusement, "I wager he will detract much attention away from the winter solstice festival."

Elrond groaned, "Erestor will kill him if he interrupts his plans," the half-Elf said in a long suffering tone, "Balrog slayer or no, he just try to might toss him into the river."

"Nonsense!" said Gil-galad, "Erestor would never do something so obvious. I wager instead, that if Lord Glorfindel displeases him, then Lord Glorfindel will find himself running out of sheets, laundry, food, supplies and whatever else Erestor decides to withhold from him. But this is a great boon from the Valar that he has been allowed to return. If I had ten Elves of his ilk, Sauron would quake."

"Be that as it may, I will have to be the one in the range of danger," Elrond protested, "_You _will be not be buried in arrangements for festivals and feasts, when no doubt the whole of Lindon will have their heads full of thoughts and gossip of Lord Glorfindel."

"Indeed," said Gil-galad, "I also wager that I shall hear far more tales and lays of Gondolin than I ever wanted to hear. But as you said, mellon nín (my friend), I shall not have to do it."

Sometimes, Elrond really wished that Gil-galad could be the victim of his own wiles once in a while.

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When Elrond entered his friend's office, the Noldo was seemingly inundated with work, and dutifully dispatching it with more efficiency than Elrond himself was ever able to manage.

"Erestor," he half-sighed, "Will you ever take a break from this work? The very sight of that pile makes my hand ache in sympathy!"

"The work must be done, whether I will it or not," Erestor replied, "Is there ought I can do for you, my lord?"

"How many times have I told you to call me Elrond?" the Half-Elf replied.

"In an official capacity, I cannot address you so, my lord." he said seriously.

"Well since, officially, I am here to spread gossip, I say that you can safely address me by my name."

"Gossip?" Erestor repeated in surprise.

"Yes, we shall have a great lord visiting shortly. He will be travelling from the Havens and should be here before the solstice."

"Who?" Erestor asked in alarm, wondering how he was going to fit in a feast to welcome this 'great lord'.

"Glorfindel of Gondolin, returned to Middle Earth by the Valar."

"The Balrog slayer?"

"Aye, the same one." Elrond answered. "But don't worry meldir (friend)," he reassured, seeing the agitated look in his friend's eye, "I am in charge of dealing with his housing and such, so you need not fret, and should just enjoy whatever forms of gossip the Edhil (Elves) of Lindon shall come up with to greet him."

"I thank you for your appraisal, Elrond," the Noldo answered thoughtfully, "But I have much work to do…"

"Of course, Erestor, I will see you later," Elrond said, getting up to leave. But as he was passing through the door, his foresight came to him suddenly, and he stiffened in the hallway in shock.

He knew not what it portended, but he had just had the strangest feeling that something important was going to happen to Erestor soon….

Now if he could only have known what……

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A/N: So? Opinions please! Please READ AND REVIEW!!!

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Elvish:

Adar - father

Naneth - mother

Bereth - spouse

mellon nín - my friend

Ellon - he-Elf

Pen neth - young one

Ellyth - she-Elves

Ellyn - he-Elves

Meldir - friend

Edhil - Elves

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Avernien - the city on the mouths of Sirion, where many of the survivors of Doriath, Nargothrond, and Gondolin dwelt. Was destroyed by the sons of Fëanor, who initiated a kin slaying and sacked the city.

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Círdan - also called 'the Shipwright'. Lord of the Grey Havens. The only Elf with a beard.

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Eärendil - Elrond's father. Now sails the sky with a Silmaril. Can be seen as a star in Middle Earth.

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Ereinion - 'scion of Kings'. High King of the Noldor after Turgon's death. Also known by his épessë (surname) Gil-galad.

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Gil-galad - Last High King of the Noldor. King of Lindon.

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Mithlond - the Grey Havens. Ruled by Círdan.

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The Grinding Ice - When the host of the Noldor left the Undying Lands in rebellion against the Valar after the theft of the Silmarils by Morgoth, Fëanor instigated the First Kinslaying when he slew the Telerin Elves of Alqualondë for their ships. But as there were not enough to carry all the Noldor from Aman at once, he chose those most loyal to himself to go first and instead of sending the boats back for the other host of Elves, which was larger than his, he burnt them. The remaining Noldor under Fingolfin, though Galadriel was also one of the leaders, were forced to cross the Grinding Ice (think of something like polar icecaps.) to get to Middle Earth. Many perished on the journey, and the crossing was long, hard and treacherous.

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	2. First Meetings

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MELETH: LOS'LÓRIEL BY ASHA DREAMWEAVER

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Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any OC's.

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Summary: Glorfindel/Erestor. When Glorfindel returns to ME, he finds his attention caught by a haunted advisor with a dark past. Between the outbreak of a war, and Erestor's own demons, can Glorfindel win his love, and survive the darkness?

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Author's Notes: This is SLASH, people. This means a male/male relationship. If you are homophobic, don't read past this point.

You have been warned. No flames accepted because of this as proper warnings have been given!

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Response to reviewers:

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GJ - Thanks! Yes, Erestor does angst wonderfully!

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Griswold - thanks a million! Erestor's guilt is definitely going to cause problems!

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JunoMagic - Thank you! And I hope that the meeting is tasteful enough for you!

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Kasmi Kassim - Thanks for reviewing! And there is a serious shortage of Erestor/Glorfindel pairings out there! By the way, 'Strength of a Greenleaf' was really good!

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trustingfriendship - they meet in this chapter!

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And major thanks goes to:

Emma, Haldir's Heart and Soul, She-Cat,

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CHAPTER TWO: FIRST MEETINGS

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Lindon, the year 1610 of the Second Age.

Great was the curiosity and joy in Lindon the day that the hero of legend, Glorfindel of Gondolin arrived in the city.

For such a renowned lord, and the means by which Eärendil had lived to escape the fall of Gondolin, the High King himself would greet the Elda, surrounded by his steward, Elrond, and a host of his chief advisors.

First and foremost, Gil-galad had wanted Erestor present. The counsellor may have been shy but he was by no means ignorant of anything that went on in the High King's realm. Indeed, Gil-galad, even if he had not considered himself a friend of the retiring Noldo, would have valued him most highly for that sharp tongue, keen wit and even keener mind. Few things got past Erestor of Lindon unnoticed. And Gil-galad wanted that mind at work at deciphering the character of the reborn Elf-lord.

But Erestor had proved most reticent indeed.

The advisor had flatly refused when Elrond first broached the topic with him, and his stance had not changed much in the ensuing days.

Erestor was not fond of crowds as a rule, and the very thought of being stuck in the middle of such a throng that was likely to gather to greet such a noble lord, made him most uneasy.

He had tried everything to gracefully duck out of the proceedings, even citing to Gil-galad that he could easily perform His Majesty's observations from a more secluded place, if His Majesty so desired.

In the end, he had frustrated Gil-galad so much that he'd issued a direct order to the stubborn Noldo.

Erestor was the best of his advisors save for Elrond, who supervised them all, and Gil-galad was hoping to be able to reward his friend's service ere long but in order to do that, he had to make Erestor show off his abilities in public more so that he would not have to listen to the griping of the other advisor's over the shy Elf's promotion.

And so while Gil-galad and his once ward and now steward, Elrond Peredhel (Half-Elven) gracefully held the most prominent position in front of the palace, Erestor was discomfited by the many enquiring stares he received.

Letting the dark curtain of his hair fall down to either side of his face, he used it to block his vision of the stares directed his way, and shrank back into the most secluded spot that he could locate in the area.

It was a little nook in the shadow of the pillars that held up the wide and lofty roof above the palace's entrance, and as the High King was busily engaged talking with his steward, neither had yet noticed that Erestor had left the position assigned to him, which was just a little behind and to the right of Elrond, and had drifted away to a safer spot of more obscurity.

As the legendary Elda approached, a surge of whisperings broke out amongst the crowd gathered, and they only became louder as the Lord approached the High King and Lord Elrond.

Erestor took his time to observe the Elf in question, instead of paying attention to the mass fawning of many of the Elves of Lindon.

Glorfindel was possessed of striking good looks, and it was not long ere Erestor heard that fact being exclaimed and gossiped over by most of the single Edhil (Elves) present, and a goodly portion of the coupled Elves as well.

Erestor, while not so close to the King and the two great lords to be discerned easily, was nevertheless in easy hearing range, and soon discerned the easy, unaffected manner of the Lord Glorfindel, and the healthy respect between the three mighty Elves.

From his vantage point, the advisor swiftly deduced that Lord Glorfindel was an Elf of keen intelligence, and had a healthy dash of humour, as he spoke most amiably with the other two.

Probing further, using the gifts he held for his own, he was at last satisfied that this slayer of Balrogs was possessed of a good heart. That combined with the other factors, was enough to make him leave things be.

Other musings on him could be left until he saw how the Lord's character unfolded. But as he was now satisfied that both his lords were not dealing with an unsavoury character, he would leave things alone.

Now if he could only find a way to exit the scene gracefully, not wanting to linger any longer in this melee.

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Gil-galad welcomed Glorfindel most graciously, immediately seeing in the golden Elda an Elf worth trusting, and so had treated him most warmly, and Elrond had followed suit, unwilling to believe ill of the Elda who had allowed his father, Eärendil, to escape the Fall of Gondolin unscathed.

When the pleasantries and formalities were dispensed with, Gil-galad was eager to introduce Glorfindel to Lindon, and to those that he would most likely be working closely with.

"Elrond here you have already met, but I have an advisor that you should go to if you have any problems. He is more smart and less vulture like than the others. May I introduce you to…"

The High King turned around in mounting annoyance, looking for Erestor, "Where did he sneak off to now?" he complained, wondering how he was ever to draw the Noldo out of his well lived in shell.

Elrond looked around also, swiftly finding his friend's shadow nearby, "He lurks over by the pillars there; do not try to draw him out, for he will only slink away," he warned.

Gil-galad turned apologetically to Glorfindel and indicated the advisor's barely to be seen location. "He is very reserved, and not fond of crowds as a rule. Do not think it a reason to think ill of Erestor, you will not find a more sharp witted Elf in all of Lindon, I dare say. He is more sociable when he is not amongst so many." the king explained, trying to convey his friend's notorious shyness without actually saying so.

Glorfindel turned to look at this mysterious counsellor, who both these mighty Elves thought so highly of, and his sharp eyes, like Elrond's, soon found their goal.

A black shadow lurked between the shelter of the roof pillars, and after a moment, Glorfindel realised that part of the shadow was the fall of raven hair that blocked the Elf's face.

The Elf happened to look up then, and their eyes met; the advisor, Erestor as Gil-galad had called him, looking at him in surprise and Glorfindel looking at him in thoughtful appraisal.

Glorfindel noticed the very subtle power and keen intelligence that lay veiled by those cool dark eyes with curiosity, as it was at odds with all that he had seen of the Elf thus far.

Just from that observation, he wished to know the Elf better, and the advisor was fair of face from what he could see, so the Elda could not understand why an Elf of such standing, was reticent to be in the light.

The advisor was an enigma, and a puzzle he would like to solve.

Seeing that Gil-galad was talking once more, and now going into the beautiful and airy palace, Glorfindel tore his eyes away, and followed Elrond and Ereinion, but as he walked in their wake, he could not help but ponder on the lithe shadow that intrigued him so.

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Erestor was better able to reflect on things once he had reached the safety of his quarters.

As Lord Glorfindel's eyes had met with his, he had experienced a most discomfiting feeling. Those blazing azure eyes had pierced his, seeming to try to see through him, an effect that Erestor soon realised that he detested.

But the Lord had not sought to threaten or intimidate he knew, only in his curiosity had he looked at all, and so was in no way responsible for Erestor's unease, but the advisor hated anyone seeing him so deeply, even if they were a reborn Lord from the West.

His body relaxing as he enjoyed the solitude and the absence of the stifling crowds, Erestor let his rigid control of himself slip for the moment, and took the rare opportunity to calm down ere he dove back into the preparations for the winter solstice.

He did not know why the golden Elda had unnerved him so, even more so than Gil-galad when he had first tried to befriend him, but he was quite determined to find out.

He could not, would not, tolerate losing control.

Not after last time.

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Glorfindel's apartments were luxurious and welcoming, and he soon thought that he spied the elegant touch of Elrond on the furnishings rather than some other of the High King's staff.

Understated elegance and a deep respect and compassion for others were the two most dominant traits that Glorfindel had seen in the son of Eärendil, and the Elda reminded himself to thank Elrond for his troubles on his behalf later.

The rooms were elegant as befitting a lord, whilst still maintaining a homey, comforting atmosphere and Glorfindel was instantly delighted with them.

And even more delighted to be on his own, away from the over enthusiastic Elves he had met so far.

Only Elrond and Gil-galad, of all that he had met today, had behaved with unaffected civility and gracious manners without the taint of obsequiousness that was present in all the others.

Elrond had shown him to his rooms, seeing the Elda's dilemma with the rest of Gil-galad's suddenly awed and curious staff, and so to save the renowned Balrog slayer some unnecessary and unwelcome probing over his infamous death, had personally seen to his comforts.

"The High King will give you an audience later this evening, to discuss your role in Lindon," the Peredhel had said with a small smile, "But for now, I shall leave you to your peace, as undoubtedly, you shall be subjected to much posturing and flattery this evening at the evening meal."

Glorfindel had groaned theatrically, causing Elrond to chuckle, and had thanked him for his time and trouble, but Elrond had waved him off.

That had been an hour ago, and now that the sense of peace was wearing off, isolation was beginning to be felt.

Glorfindel had never been an unsocial Elf, and only now in his second life in Middle Earth had he experienced such blatant rudeness and the sycophantic behaviour towards himself which disgusted him.

But through it all came the unrelenting desire for company. After the grey of Mandos Halls, Glorfindel wanted to live life again, in every way.

And so as he pondered, he realised that he could only hope that whatever awe the Elves of Lindon held for him would wear off ere he lost his temper with them.

And very deliberately, he pushed aside the ache in his heart, and Círdan's words, and ignored the fact that he was feeling increasingly empty inside, despite all the company that would attach themselves to him.

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In the High King's chambers, after the stress of an eventful day, Elrond and Gil-galad were at last left to themselves, to talk about the little things, as well as their plans for the future.

Gil-galad joyfully slouched into his comfortable armchair, causing Elrond to shake his head in bemusement, "You do realise that you are King and therefore are allowed to slouch in public if you wish."

Gil-galad lazily cracked open one eye, "But it is so much more enjoyable when everyone is not staring at me," he replied, "And I think that you meldiren, (my friend), could do with a bit of a slouch now and then."

Elrond just jested right back, "And you need a mate to look after you. I sometimes weary of being your minder."

"You make me sound as I were a mere elfling, when I am older than your father pen neth, (young one)." Gil-galad answered with feigned annoyance.

"Yes, but with all the weight and burdens that you take upon yourself, I, and many others, wonder when will the mighty Ereinion settle down."

Gil-galad's face clouded over for a moment, for some reason that Elrond could not discern, but a second later it was gone as if it had never been. "Not all Elves seek marital bliss, Elrond," he said, "And even more of us have not yet met one who stirs our hearts so."

The High King's tone was so full of melancholy that Elrond reached across and took his hand in comfort, "Ereinion, you must not despair," the Peredhel (half-Elven) urged his friend and the closest thing to a father he had known since Eärendil had gone out to the Sea, and on to the West, to sail the immortal skies evermore. "You shall find love in time. And then it shall come to you with all the force of a storm, until even you bow down before it, and then you shall know eternal happiness in their arms."

"Your words comfort me, pen neth (young one)," Gil-galad said after a moment, "But such is rarely the fate of kings. And especially those who claim the title of High King. As a rule, we rarely live long enough to experience such joy."

"You should not say such things!" Elrond exclaimed, "Such a fate shall not be yours as was your kin's. Morgoth is gone. Do not let the ghosts of the past fetter you to them. Believe in the future and let it come to you. Despairing will not help."

"I will take your words to heart, mellon (friend)," Gil-galad replied, feeling better even if he felt that the chances of his friend's words coming true was slim, "But now let us change to a lighter topic, shall we? What think you of Glorfindel?"

Elrond leaned back in his own chair, knowing that Gil-galad would say no more on the topic, "I think that Lindon has gained a valuable ally and a priceless captain."

"And of his character?" the High King pressed.

"I think that he is as noble as his reputation, and a merry spirit for the most part. But I fear the memory of Mandos Halls weighs heavy on him," Elrond said, thinking back to his conversation with the golden warrior.

"So we can trust him then?"

"He is not Celebrimbor, Ereinion, for all that you fear. He will not countermand a direct order."

"I know he is not Celebrimbor. The smith's stubbornness is generally conferred only on to the scions of the house of Fëanor," Ereinion answered, "But I dearly wish to hear Erestor's opinion as well. If I can ever find him."

"He will never become what you want him to be until he faces his own demons, meldiren (my friend)," Elrond said sagely, "You cannot blame him for not wanting the attention and position that you would unwittingly foist on him."

"But he did not even remain beside us when Glorfindel arrived!" Gil-galad said, "He did not even greet him. I fear that war is brewing, pen neth, that it shall come upon us without warning. I know not why I fear it, but I fear it anyway, and I need to know that if we must march once more, that Lindon is in safe hands."

"By Eru!" Elrond exclaimed in little more than a whisper, understanding coming to him, "You want to have Erestor lead them! Are you mad?! He would never agree, and you would throw the court into turmoil!"

Gil-galad held up a hand to quiet him, "There is no other I can trust to see to Lindon's best interests. I sense a great darkness coming, and I am not sure that we shall be strong enough to weather it. If it does come to war, I need to know that Lindon is not only being ruled by someone I trust implicitly, but by someone on whom pride and influence has little sway."

"What do you mean?" Elrond asked, growing more horrified as more of Gil-galad's fears were revealed, "Speak more plainly, I beg of you!"

"I mean, that I must act in the best interests of the realm. Too many of my advisors are too arrogant for their own good. They believe wholeheartedly that no army exists any more that can overwhelm a city of the Eldar. They are all fools," Gil-galad said darkly, his face grave and solemn, lines worn of care evident on the smooth plane, "They would not only be ill prepared but they would try to hold out even long past all hope is lost. They would not call on the race of Men for aid. In short, they would leave Lindon in ruins, and her people slaughtered or left as playthings for the orcs ere they would retreat. I cannot countenance it Elrond!"

Elrond's own expression reflected the dark mood of the king, "You are certain this is coming?"

The king only nodded, his mind troubled.

"Why Erestor? He has not any inclination for such roles."

"Because he would keep them safe," Ereinion said softly, "He does not cling to false hope, nor will pride lead him astray. If Lindon was seen to fall soon, he would get her people out and leave the city to burn if he had to. I can trust him and his heart to do right. If I could I would leave you behind to deal with things, but I cannot spare my herald and one of my captains. Nay, there can be no other. Erestor must do as I ask of him when the time comes."

"And how long do you think that will be?"

"No more than a century at most to prepare I would think," the king replied, "And even that will not be enough time. The great armies of the Noldor of the first age are no more, meldir (friend), the time of Men is coming. And I fear that what is coming will take us unawares, no matter how much I forebode its coming."

"By the Valar, what are we to do?" Elrond said.

"What can we do but wait?" Gil-galad answered with grim finality, "We can do nothing to strike against its occurrence until we know the nature of the threat. But you will help me then, my young friend?"

"How could I not, hir nín (my lord)?" Elrond replied, and silence fell between them for a long while.

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When Erestor had been summoned to the kitchens by Ivorwen, the assistant to the head chef, he truly had not expected any disaster of the magnitude that was facing him now.

It was two days before the winter solstice festival and a catastrophe of such magnitude as to render him speechless for several moments had just occurred.

As he had strode into the kitchen on the heels of the plainly nervous assistant cook and was immediately swallowed in a great cloud of smoke. The room was terribly hot, the noise level was unbelievable due to the harried shouting of several Elves and Erestor could just make out the bright flames of fire through the great haze of grey smoke.

Erestor coughed as the smoke went straight to his lungs before croaking out in utter dismay, "What happened here?!"

Ivorwen took the liberty of hauling the lord advisor aside, hoping to Eru that that formidable tongue would not take a pound of her flesh to calm its ire at this mess. Ducking into the pantry, where the smoke and noise were less, and hurriedly explained things to the most unamused advisor, whose dark eyes were starting to promise trouble when he found out who was to blame for this calamity.

"My lord," Ivorwen began anxiously, "Two of the ovens went on fire, my lord. I am afraid that they are quite destroyed and we shall need to get two new ones, my lord."

Erestor's eyes closed in utter horror, "Are you telling me that two days before the biggest festival of the season, this kitchen's ability to cook has been halved? With no chance of reprieve?" he deliberately kept his voice icy calm, not noticing the effect that his chilly demeanour had on the elleth before him.

"Yes, my lord," the elleth said quietly, unwilling to meet that dark gaze.

Erestor sighed in utter frustration, already feeling the beginnings of a headache, "Are the ovens still on fire?"

"Yes, my lord," she replied.

"Then come, let us sort out this mess, ere the palace is burned down!" Erestor cried in dismay, "Fetch somebody to gather water. I want this kitchen free of fire within the half hour!"

And with that order, he waded into the disarray and panic that was the state of the kitchen proper.

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Elrond was deep at work when Lindir, one of the realm's favoured minstrels popped his head into the study, "Lord Elrond?" that melodious voice said quietly.

"Yes, Lindir? Do come in," Elrond replied, putting aside the parchment he was perusing and giving the minstrel his full attention. "What brings you to my study? 'Tis not often that you grace this wing of the palace."

"I wish it was under better circumstances, my lord," Lindir said uncomfortably, "But I felt that you should be warned."

Elrond felt an uneasy feeling overtake him at Lindir's words, "Tell me, Lindir, warn me of what?"

"'Tis the kitchens my lord. There is some sort of fire, and smoke is flowing out of the halls nearby, and I have it on good authority that the Lord Erestor is on the warpath over it."

"Fire?!" Elrond gasped.

"I believe the Lord Erestor has it under control my lord, but his shouting can be heard from four halls away, and I have good reason to believe him most incensed my lord."

Elrond sighed, if the destruction of the kitchen interfered with Erestor's plans for the solstice, he could very well imagine the tongue lashing that the unfortunate Elf responsible was receiving. "Thank you for the warning, Lindir," he said, "But now I must leave you as I think the kitchen staff are in need of rescuing."

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Lindir had not been the only one to hear the almost obscene level of noise emanating from the kitchen area.

Glorfindel, curious about the extreme amount of shouting and concerned about the wafting smoke, entered the disaster area with a small amount of trepidation.

Surrounded by a gaggle of flustered, constantly moving Elves stood the Elf he had glimpsed the other day, completely ensconced in the mess.

Erestor was trying to placate the shouting cooks, while barking orders to the kitchen hands to stop the fire and to let the smoke out of the room. His fair face flushed with the heat, eyes bright with a mixture of concentration and harassment, and robes and hair in pleasant disarray from the formalness of previously, the advisor looked strangely tempting to Glorfindel's experienced eye.

Shaking his head to try to erase the sudden lustful thoughts about the shy advisor, he tried to remember that this Elf seemed to be a personal favourite of both Gil-galad and Elrond and showing an interest in treating him like a bed-treat would not be an advisable way of recommending himself to the King or his herald.

Glorfindel, seeing that things were under something that could be termed as control, kept out of the way while Erestor supervised the solving of the current problems.

But when the advisor finally had things under control, and had looked at his soot covered robes in disgust, Erestor did not look where he was going and crashed into Glorfindel's more solid form on his way out of the door.

Erestor staggered and would have fallen if Glorfindel had not reacted quickly.

Swiftly the warrior reached out to catch the slighter form, and in an attempt to steady him, enfolded him in his arms to prevent his fall.

When Erestor had recovered his wits, he was most duly mortified, especially since his face was pressed into Glorfindel's firm chest. And he blushed lightly as he became increasingly aware of the solidity of the golden Elda's form, and the evidently strong, muscular frame which he was graced with, especially in contrast to his own more lithe slenderness.

Stepping out of the strong arms that held him, Erestor forced himself to look Glorfindel in the eye, noting in annoyance that the warrior had the gall to actually seem amused! "I am most sorry for my inattention, my lord," he apologised, wanting to get out of the situation as quickly as possible but it seemed that the older Elf had other ideas.

"There is nothing to apologise for, Lord Erestor is it not? I understand perfectly that the troubles in the kitchen occupied much of your mind."

At this, Erestor narrowed his chocolate hued eyes, getting the distinct feeling that he was being mocked, and fell back on his usual chilly reserve. "Be that as it may, Lord Glorfindel, some of us have other duties to attend to beside loitering in places that we have no business being in," he said frostily, enjoying the way that Glorfindel's eyes widened at his altered tone.

And with that parting sentence, Erestor swept out of the room with all of the dignity that he could, wondering what on earth had possessed him to displease a lord who had the king's ear.

And in the kitchen, a somewhat stunned Glorfindel was swiftly growing to appreciate the counsellor's frosty temper. If Erestor's eyes blazed so when in the depths of frost, what must it be like when that anger came from the fire of his heart?

Not to mention that the advisor looked most delectable when in the throws of anger, and that flash of steely spine assured Glorfindel that this was no meek and cravenly scholar.

Yes, he would readily admit that Erestor of Lindon was so far the most intriguing person of his acquaintance.

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Later that day, after an audience with Gil-galad in which his duties were outlined, his motives for returning questioned, and had eventually resulted in the appointment of Glorfindel to the captain of the guards of Lindon, as there was a vacancy in that position for lack of an Elf who could both devote themselves to the job and have the skill to do justice to it.

For his part, Glorfindel did not mind overly much. He had been a warrior nearly all his years, and he had been sent back to fight the Shadow so 'twas not entirely unexpected and he had to admit that he seldom had patience for the seemingly endless paperwork that swamped Elrond daily.

But now that his time with the High King had ended, Glorfindel was feeling somewhat lonely and decidedly in the mood for some recreational company of the night time sort.

Whereas his interest had already been stirred by an unexpectedly fiery counsellor, Glorfindel was by no means blind to the physical attractions of many of the Elves that eyed him with desire.

And for tonight, he was most willing to oblige them.

He could not face one more night alone, in a cold bed, left to the shadows of his nightmares and fears.

Having quickly seduced a most eager and able stable hand by the name of Arthalion, Glorfindel had swiftly led them to his bedchamber, capturing the Elf's lips in a kiss that held all the passion of millennia of abstinence before his rebirth, and the self imposed celibacy that he had suffered through at the Grey Havens.

But even as his body merged with the other's most willing one, Glorfindel was acutely aware that the pleasure was fleeting and that for all his attempts to tire himself out, the loneliness of the heart that plagued him seemed only increased when the bed play finally stopped.

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A/N: So? What do you think? Opinions please! Feedback is most welcome and appreciated! Please READ AND REVIEW!!!

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Elvish:

Adar - father

Naneth - mother

Bereth - spouse

mellon nín - my friend

Ellon - he-Elf

Pen neth - young one

Ellyth - she-Elves

Ellyn - he-Elves

Meldir - friend

Edhil - Elves

Peredhel - Half-Elven

Meldiren - my friend

Mellon - friend

Hir nín - my lord

Elleth - she-Elf

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Círdan - also called 'the Shipwright'. Lord of the Grey Havens. The only Elf with a beard.

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Eärendil - Elrond's father. Now sails the sky with a Silmaril. Can be seen as a star in Middle Earth.

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Ereinion - 'scion of Kings'. High King of the Noldor after Turgon's death. Also known by his épessë (surname) Gil-galad.

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Gil-galad - Last High King of the Noldor. King of Lindon.

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Gondolin - called the Hidden City or the Hidden Realm. Founded and ruled by Turgon, son of Fingolfin, in the First Age. Eventually destroyed by Morgoth.

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Mithlond - the Grey Havens. Ruled by Círdan.

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«´¨ Asha D ¨»  
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	3. First Stirrings

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MELETH: LOS'LÓRIEL BY ASHA DREAMWEAVER

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Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any OC's.

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Summary: Glorfindel/Erestor. When Glorfindel returns to ME, he finds his attention caught by a haunted advisor with a dark past. Between the outbreak of a war, and Erestor's own demons, can Glorfindel win his love, and survive the darkness?

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Author's Notes: This is SLASH, people. This means a male/male relationship. If you are homophobic, don't read past this point.

You have been warned. No flames accepted because of this as proper warnings have been given!

Also, I am very sorry for the long wait but Real Life interfered as always and I am in the middle of my mock final exams.

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NOTICE: I have changed e-mail addresses. This was a change forced due to my last address not allowing me to send e-mails. Anybody trying to contact me, please take note. It is now _'ashadreamweaver at yahoo dot ie.'_

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Response to reviewers:

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Beatrix Ravenclaw - now.

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Earendil Eldar - talk about being pent up!

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EmpressTryphosa - thanks for reviewing!

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Haldir's Heart and Soul - yeah, if he cares to notice. Besides Glorfindel can be discreet!

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Linfindel - thanks for your comments!

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Losseniaiel - yes, the Elvish translations will now go at the end only!

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Melian - thank you for your comments. In addition, I will take your advice about the translations.

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S-belmyne - thanks! And your story is great!

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She-Cat - I thanked you for reviewing of course!

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Trustingfriendship - Thanks!

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CHAPTER THREE: FIRST STIRRINGS

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Lindon, the year 1610 of the Second Age.

"I still say that Lord Mithrael's estimate is grossly exaggerated," Erestor said, "There is no way that the kitchens are overspending on produce. With so many people constantly moving in and out of Lindon, they are only being prudent."

"Relax, mellon nín," Elrond said, "We all know that Mithrael delights in causing you trouble."

It was no secret that Mithrael hated Erestor with a vengeance, begrudging him his influence with the king and his herald. Erestor habitually ignored his bile, but there were times when Mithrael made life difficult for the Elf.

As Elrond skilfully soothed his friend, Glorfindel watched the by play in fascination. He had not been long in Lindon ere he had been forced to put up with a troop of counsellors coming to see, or stare at, the 'legend' of Glorfindel of Gondolin. The golden Elda detested them with all their false words, insincere charm and most unsubtle gaping. The only advisor who had not accosted him was Erestor, who merely looked at him appraisingly with his cool dark eyes, as if waiting to see if he was going to make a mistake.

Glorfindel had also realised that the true duties of a counsellor fell mostly on Erestor, for the little use that Gil-galad got out of the rest of them, and that the High King was well aware of who held the true power in that gaggle of advisors. The others knew it as well, and hated the slim Noldo for it, but were wise enough not to show it when the King or his Herald were present. In addition, he knew that Gil-galad and Elrond nearly always listened to his opinions on matters that most of the other advisors were not privy to.

As Erestor was in charge of the smooth running of the palace, Glorfindel, as captain of the guard, often had budget matters to discuss regarding the outfitting of the troops, and so the Elda had firsthand experience dealing with Erestor's sharp wit and sharper tongue.

And what he found in the Elf intrigued him.

And surprised by that flicker of interest, he had watched the reserved Elf closely, but for all his endeavours to find out what lay behind the mask, he had not been able to see beneath it.

But in the sessions where Elrond was present, the Peredhel brought the counsellor out of his shell a little, especially if no one else was present. And so having been already exposed to Erestor's wit, and rapier of a tongue, Glorfindel now saw glimpses of the younger Elf's humour and temperament. And he liked what he saw.

Erestor seemed to be a very well grounded Elf, and a responsible one. But best of all to Glorfindel's eyes, he seemed to care little for his fame and even less for the fawning that was regularly inflicted on him.

And so after the meeting was done, Glorfindel delayed Elrond a moment after the others had left, "Elrond," he said, "May I ask you something?"

The Peredhel looked at him in small surprise, "Of course, Glorfindel." he answered, "What is it you wish to ask?"

"I wish to know more about Erestor," Glorfindel said quietly, "He is an enigma to me, and I fear not one I can crack with just observation."

A wary light came into the herald's grey eyes, so reminiscent of Turgon, "I fear that Erestor's business is his own, Glorfindel," Elrond said carefully, "And I would know more of what you wish to know ere I would tell anything."

"He has raised my curiosity," the Elda answered honestly, "Ever since I came here, few have been those that have treated me as a person, and not some hero from legends, and his reserve has me curious. Especially since we shall be working together for the foreseeable future."

Elrond studied him carefully, and then sighed, "There is not much I can tell you, even if I could. I cannot break a friend's confidence, and Glorfindel, do not take offence at my words, but I say now that I will not tolerate anyone toying with his feelings. I do not pass comment on your activities, but I think that your personality would overwhelm Erestor's if he let you, and I know he wants no part of any casual relationship. It is not his way."

Glorfindel nodded, and watched the younger Elf thoughtfully as he left. Both Elrond and Gil-galad seemed to have firm 'keep away' signs out when it came to Erestor, for whatever reason. He knew that the shy Elf was neither the lover of King nor Herald, and no ties of kinship seemed to hold them. Indeed, Erestor had trouble calling either by their names and not their titles.

Still, he was not as foolish as to risk the High King's ire, or the wrath of Lord Elrond, for a mere feeling of curiosity. Whatever fascination young Erestor held, he was sure it was nothing more than a passing thing. Too often had Ecthelion told him that he had a very discerning eye, and more curiosity than all the cats in Gondolin.

No, he would leave the mystery of Erestor be, and turn his attentions to more pleasurable matters than puzzling out an enigma.

-

Rising from the bed, he looked askance at the figure under the covers, still held in reverie, and crossed to the balcony. Ever since his return to Middle Earth, he had been taunted by dreams of a love of his own. Every time he slept, he could see a figure, feel the love that passed between him, but always, the figure was out of his reach. He could see neither face nor form, and no telling name passed their lips. At first, he thought that it had been a sign of hope, that he was to meet someone who could fill the emptiness in his heart but as more and more time passed by, he could only consign it to be some torturous dream; showing something that he wanted desperately, but could never have.

It wore on him. He had made efforts to seek out a mate, to see if any were the one that called to him in his slumber, but each time he was disappointed anew. Nothing more than lust ever passed between him and those who caught his eye, and as his dream seemed to slip farther and farther out of reach, these empty encounters burdened his soul.

He cared not for awe, nor hero worship, nor lust, nor the ambitions that others held when they saw him. They only saw the Balrog Slayer of Gondolin; - a name he had never claimed for himself. In fact, he scorned them for it, for had not dearest Ecthelion slain more than he, and Gothmog, the Lord of Balrogs at that? It grated on his nerves, and wore on his patience but he endured it with ever fading hope that somewhere in Middle Earth, there was one that he could cherish and be cherished by in return.

The sharing of the body that he had indulged in in Gondolin was no longer enough. He needed more than empty words and hollow passions. He wanted someone he would be content to hold and talk of their day, someone that could put that warm glow into his heart, someone to be his for eternity.

With one last glance at the brown haired figure in his bed, he dressed quietly and left to wander the gardens of the palace, hoping that some inspiration would strike him to put an end to this cycle of disappointment.

-

The sound of steel meeting steel carried through the cold air, echoing across the near empty grounds.

In the training field, Ereinion Gil-galad and Glorfindel circled each other, swords held ready, sparring with rarely seen skill.

The hour was early, and they were alone; a state both of them preferred. And both were eager to test their own skill against the other's reputation. Glorfindel and Gil-galad had established an easy rapport, both being Ellyn who preferred action to endlessly debating something, and nearly anything to paperwork.

For their parts, Gil-galad was pleased to have a friend who was not impressed with his title, a rarity in his life, and Glorfindel was pleased that Gil-galad did not fawn and was also of an easy temper.

And so King and Lord had become quite well acquainted since the Elda's arrival, and Gil-galad had taken him into his confidence- after all, there were just some things that he could not share even with Elrond.

"You have the same problem as I, mellon," Gil-galad said as he parried a bone-shocking blow from Glorfindel, "'Tis the burden of either being titled, or famous, or in your case, both. It should die down in a millennia or so."

The Elda gave him a glowering look, "Why thank you, meldiren, that reassures me so greatly," he said sardonically as he lunged again at the king, "And considering your long years of being King, I would have thought you would have settled down by now. Surely there was someone who caught your interest?"

"Attempts to catch my interest and have the prestige of being bedded by a king, along with ambition is what I have mostly seen," Gil-galad said, nearly landing a strike on Glorfindel's thigh, "I have yet to meet one that makes my heart sing, and I confess that loneliness wears on me."

Glorfindel's face sobered, "Aye, we share the same dilemma; I too cannot find a love, though I wish for one. It seems that things never come when we are ready for them."

Gil-galad arched an eyebrow, "From what I have heard, though you are very discreet I give you, is that you have bedded more than your fair share of Ellyth and Ellyn since coming here. Do none of them satisfy you for a bed-mate?"

"None of them see me," Glorfindel growled out, "They see only the 'Balrog Slayer' of tales, much as they see you as the king. I cannot escape their shallowness."

Gil-galad held up his hand to signal for a tie and a stop to the sparring match, "I am sorry, Glorfindel," he said quietly, "Mayhap the solstice festival will cheer your spirits?"

The blonde glared at him, "I shall be in a room, wearing finery, with plenty of wine flowing, trapped there with everyone I wish would leave me alone. How can I possibly enjoy myself?"

Gil-galad clapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed sympathetically, "Aye, I know what you go through. The first two centuries of banquets are always the worst, but perhaps Erestor would share his corner with you? He always manages to find a shadowed spot…."

He barely ducked Glorfindel's playfully swatting hand.

-

Two days later, a bemused Glorfindel spotted counsellor Erestor on the training fields. The advisor shyly waved him over. And curious, he went.

"Lord Erestor," he said, discomfiting the other Ellon, "What are you doing here on such a fine day?" The counsellor was dressed in his customary dark robes, and dark eyes pinned him as he approached.

"We have matters to discuss, Hir nín," Erestor replied stiffly, "I was told to seek you out, to deal with the acquisition of some new armour and the funding for it. Is now a good time, Lord Glorfindel?"

The Elda had almost forgotten about the order, figuring it lost amid the mires of papers that routinely buried the king's desk. "Of course, counsellor," he replied graciously, "Lead the way to your office."

Following the small, dark clad figure through the winding halls of the palace, he was surprised at the counsellor's office, it being his first time there. The smooth curving walls and glorious architecture would not have done badly for Elrond's office and it confirmed his opinions that Ereinion Gil-galad was grooming young Erestor for some higher office. From what he had seen of the other Elf, if he could come out of his shell, then he could be a very formidable opponent to anyone in the field of diplomacy and organisation.

Taking the seat offered, he watched with no small amusement as Erestor produced his original order from a pile of immaculately ordered documents. "His Majesty has cleared your order," he began, "But the smiths need more specifics on what type of armour who are looking for and the soldiers they are intended for. This order will be sent to the Gwaith-i-Mirdain in Eregion so we need to have all the particulars sent with it."

And as they discussed the details, the younger Elf more animated than he had seen him since the disaster in the kitchens, Glorfindel felt a strange feeling well up in his heart. A longing… for the Elf in front of him. It was if he was a bee and Erestor was the honey.

He tried to remember Elrond's caution and the well acknowledged shyness of the other Ellon, but Glorfindel could only find himself wondering how he had not seen the merit in the others darkling beauty, the keen intelligence and the wicked wit. He was captivated. And he knew not why.

Feeling the weight of that cool stare upon him, in puzzlement as his mind had drifted from the conversation, to the way a dark lock of hair played beside Erestor's ear.

Moreover, even as he departed from the office, there was a twinge of pain in his heart at the separation, and hidden behind a pillar, he watched the slender figure walk away and disappear down another corridor ere he left himself.

-

It was a troubled lord of Gondolin that went to the High King for advice.

Troubled by the unrest in his heart, he spilled his tale to the king, and after he was finished telling of the feelings that had taken hold of him, he sat back and awaited the king's advice.

Ereinion was silent for a long moment but then he began to speak, "Are you sure about this, Glorfindel?" he asked, "Erestor is a quiet Elf, not prone to company- or lovers , and he has his own past. I would not wish to see him hurt."

"Elrond said much the same. Why is he so important to you?"

"Because he is a treasured friend, a loyal counsellor and a wise soul," Ereinion said, leaning back in his own high backed chair, "I wonder at your feeling anything for him, meldir, you are very much different in personality."

"Because out of all the Edhil I have seen since returning to Middle Earth, he is the only one who has stirred me so. I know that he is a pen neth, but I wish to know more ere I make any decision as to this longing's validity. I know little of his personality; save that his cold shell is consumed in fire when he is angry."

"Glorfindel, if your feelings are true, and that you and Erestor are meant to be, I shall be very happy for you both," Ereinion said, "But I beg you, take this slow, get to know him first ere you broach anything. I would not have this end badly for either of you. Do not rush this. If you can like him as a friend, then you can turn your mind to other things if it works out, but I will not see either of you hurt if I can help it."

The Elda nodded, "I see the wisdom in your words and I shall follow your advice. If I do seek to court Erestor, then rest assured that I shall mean it."

"That is all I can ask."

-

The winter solstice was an undeniable success. Everyone was enjoying themselves, the food and wine were flowing nicely and the music was perfect. Standing in his normal corner, Erestor felt free to congratulate himself on a job well done.

However, all was not meant to be so.

Gildor and Glorfindel, well filled with wine, were staging some contest of tales, when Glorfindel, forgetting his strength, pushed Gildor, who staggered and while the rest of the Edhil watched on in horror and amusement, he fell into the banquet table, bringing the food and drink clattering on him and down around his ears.

Even as Glorfindel rushed to help him, he slipped and slid on the messy floor and he grabbed a tall candlestick on the way down to try to prevent his most undignified fall. He fell anyway but the candle caught the decorative bunting and streamers and set them alight.

Before either Gildor or Glorfindel could drag themselves up from the mess they had fallen in, the entire solstice decorations and meal had been ruined and every eye in the room was on them.

Including one pair of narrowed, smouldering balefully, dark eyes.

The entire hall watched aghast as all of Erestor's carefully and meticulously planned decorations and arrangements were unceremoniously destroyed in quick succession. The advisor in question could only watch his perfect winter solstice festival vanish amid ruins as the people responsible cringed at the amount of devastation they had caused.

Gil-galad and Elrond nervously watched Erestor, whose fists were clenched, his dark eyes spewing molten fire, and whose not so inconsiderable ire when roused was directed towards the unwitting Balrog Slayer, and the Lord of the Wandering Company.

Both of them knew that look well. It took quite a lot to rouse it from the normally reserved Noldo, but when it took hold, the advisor was a force to be reckoned with.

Elrond personally thought Glorfindel would have had better luck with another Balrog, whilst Gil-galad idly mused that his predictions over Erestor making Glorfindel's daily life most uncomfortable seemed to be coming true.

The entire room watched in shock as the slender advisor, who was practically seething with rage, stalked over to the two miscreants, his footing ever sure.

Dark eyes bored into them for a long moment ere that deceptively silky voice spoke, anger tingeing it, "This…. _disaster_ is all your fault!" Erestor snarled, hands on hips as he glowered at the two shocked Elves, who had never seen the advisor like this. "I cannot believe this! And you are supposed to be warriors! And yet you set _fire_ to the celebrations! You are no better than irrepressible elflings! Save that they would have more sense! I care naught for what titles you claim, you _will_ clean up this mess by yourselves! And by Elbereth, if I hear that you tried to ask anyone else to help you, I will ensure your life is akin to an extended stay in the pits of Udûn! Am I understood!"

Glorfindel glanced at Gil-galad but the king only shrugged, as if to say, 'what do you expect me to do?' and then Gildor and he shared a glance, and as one turned to look back at the livid advisor, who for all his reserve, now resembled a dark dragon intent on devouring them.

Hearing no response, Erestor's eyes flashed, "Am I understood, elflings!" he said again, fury colouring his tone.

With a resigned nod, Glorfindel looked at this new side to the counsellor, and said, "Aye, Master Erestor," he said, "We understand."

"Good," the Elf snapped, "Because if you do not put out those fires, I will show you the meaning of 'cruel and unusual punishment'!"

And with that, the Elf stormed out of the hall, a path opening for him through the crowd and with an amused glance at Glorfindel, Elrond left the remnants of the high table to chase after his friends.

The housekeeper approached with a mop and a brush, and handed one to each of them, ignoring their dismayed and pleading looks. And as the two Eldar looked around the sea of steadily growing more and more amused faces, they realised that Erestor had already given them a 'cruel and unusual punishment'.

Because none of these Elves were going to miss the chance to see the two wine and food covered Eldar clean up this disaster in front of them.

Glorfindel got the sinking feeling that he had greatly underestimated the deceptively delicate Erestor.

Because the Balrog slayer seemed to have lost this round.

-

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A/N: So? What do you think? Opinions please! Feedback is most welcome and appreciated! Please READ AND REVIEW!

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NOTICE: I have changed e-mail addresses. This was a change forced due to my last address not allowing me to send e-mails. Anybody trying to contact me, please take note. It is now _'ashadreamweaver at yahoo dot ie.'_

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Elvish:

Mellon nín - my friend

Peredhel - Half-Elven

Ellyn - he-Elves

Mellon - friend

Meldiren - my friend

Ellyth - she-Elves

Hir nín - my lord

Ellon - he-Elf

Meldir - friend

Edhil - Elves

Pen neth - young one

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Eregion - an Elven realm of the Second Age. Celebrimbor forged the Three Elven Rings here. Sauron laid waste to the city and its people, taking all the rings of power, and killing Celebrimbor and using his body as a banner.

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Ereinion - 'scion of Kings'. High King of the Noldor after Turgon's death. Also known by his épessë (surname) Gil-galad.

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Gil-galad - Last High King of the Noldor. King of Lindon.

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Gondolin - called the Hidden City or the Hidden Realm. Founded and ruled by Turgon, son of Fingolfin, in the First Age. Eventually destroyed by Morgoth.

('·.¸('·.¸ ¸.·'´) ¸.·'´)  
«´¨ Asha D ¨»  
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	4. Haunted

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MELETH: LOS'LÓRIEL BY ASHA DREAMWEAVER

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Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot and any OC's.

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Summary: Glorfindel/Erestor. When Glorfindel returns to ME, he finds his attention caught by a haunted advisor with a dark past. Between the outbreak of a war, and Erestor's own demons, can Glorfindel win his love, and survive the darkness?

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Author's Notes: This is SLASH, people. This means a male/male relationship. If you are homophobic, do not read past this point.

You have been warned. No flames accepted because of this as proper warnings have been given!

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Response to reviewers:

AM - Hopefully, the wait wasn't too long.

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Dame J - thank you! I adore Erestor too! And Glorfindel/Erestor is so one of my favourite pairings!

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Emma - thanks!

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Golden Elf - thanks! They are some of my favourite characters too!

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Haldir's Heart and Soul - thanks! And yes, Erestor has more spunk to him than either of the miscreants ever thought! And somehow, I don't see flowers cooling that temper!

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She-Cat - Glad you found it funny!

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CHAPTER FOUR: HAUNTED

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It is better to be hated for what you are than to be loved for what you are not.  
- Andre Gide  


The moon shone down on the lush gardens, turning everything silver and gleaming under its bountiful light. A figure darted ahead of him, playfully evading his grasp, and he laughed as he pursued it. Long legs ate up the ground, and he soon caught the smaller figure, grasping it by the hips and spinning it up and around until it squealed and the voice- male and silky - begged to be set back down on solid ground.

He spun the figure around, holding him by the waist and was surprised at what he saw there. Dark eyes glittering with playfulness and love looked back at him, lips curved upwards in a smile as a pale hand reached up to twine a lock of Glorfindel's golden hair around his finger.

Something niggled at him from the back of his mind, but he ignored it. He did not want for this to end. The delightful Elf in his arms was occupying all of his attention, and the warm feeling in his breast ensured that he wanted nothing to interrupt them.

Soft lips met his in an expression of love, not lust, and he tightened his hold on the slim waist. "Erestor…." he whispered softly.

The darkling counsellor smiled at him sweetly, but then he glanced at the waning stars and his smile saddened, "Our time is up, meleth nín," he said softly, "Time to go…"

And even as he tried to tighten his hold, to keep this lovely creature with him, Erestor slipped out of his arms and disappeared into the darkness. Feeling bereft, he held out his arms beseechingly, the ache in his heart growing stronger, "Erestor!" he called, "_Meleth_!"

He woke to the sound of the endearment on his lips, calling out for what he could not have. Moreover, when he discovered himself alone once more, he felt such a wave of loneliness as to take his breath away.

Only in his dreams, which became clearer by the day, had the warrior of Gondolin ever felt so content, so happy to simply be in another's presence. His mysterious dream lover had been appearing in his dreams since his coming to Middle Earth, and yet tonight, the face had been clear for the first time.

And it shocked him.

He did not deny that his thoughts had been much plagued by the counsellor, but to now have his dreams so invaded. And it had been happening since before he had even met the Noldo.

However, he could not deny that face, the name that he had uttered, and he felt torn in two. Why was he tormented with visions of the one Elf that would not even speak to him if he could avoid it? What was he thinking? Dreaming of the one Elf in Lindon who thought him a colossal idiot and an elfling?

Just why had the cool advisor affected him this badly? And how did he make it stop?

Ruefully, he admitted that maybe he did not want it to. The dreams may have been a torment, but they were also a balm for his weary soul. In them, he knew the comforted, contented feeling of companionship and the steady burning passion and incredible sweetness of love. It was not a feeling that one forgot easily.

He wanted to have that. In his waking life.

And he still remembered the feel of Erestor in his arms, the warm weight against his chest and the playful tugs on his long golden hair as he buried his face in silky black tresses. He still remembered the playful squeals and delighted giggles, the contented murmurs and the longing sighs, the softly voiced declarations of affections and the breathy moans of desire.

He wanted to hear them for real.

Unbidden, the image of Erestor came to him. Under the moonlight, sweetly smiling at him, and he winced as he contrasted it with the image of his last encounter with the mysterious counsellor. White faced with rage, eyes spewing venom and fire, voice dripping with contempt and barely contained ire. 'Twas a far cry from the willing and warm companion of his dreams.

But he now had more knowledge than he had ever had before.

He knew his name.

And that meant that he could act.

He was not a superstitious Elf, but to dream of Erestor so ardently… it had to be a sign of some sort. One that he was not going to ignore.

He would see if dreams really could come true.

****

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The next day, he set his plan into action.

He knew well that the advisor was still furious with him, even if the heat of his ire had cooled somewhat. In fact, he had it on good authority from Elrond that Erestor's opinion of his intelligence had sunk dramatically after the incident at the solstice festival.

Nevertheless, he was determined to overcome that. His heart fluttered whenever he was close to Erestor, and though it was not a feeling he was familiar with, he had decided that he liked it. And thus, he would try to pursue Erestor as a friend before he tried to woo him. There was no need to scare the reserved advisor off ere the time was right.

And so he stealthily stationed himself outside the fair Elf's office and waited until he was alone before he casually dropped in to Erestor's study.

Alas, he did not get far.

Without looking up from the parchment he was neatly writing on, Erestor lifted one elegant hand and pointed at the door, "I do not care what mess you have caused this time, Captain," he said coolly, "But please find another counsellor to fix it for you. I have neither the time nor the inclination to be forever cleaning up after you."

The Elda tried to explain, "Lord Erestor, I…" but his attempt was foiled by the arrival of a messenger from Lórinand.

Erestor looked up and gave him a look that clearly asked what he was still doing here. And unable to do anything in the presence of the curious messenger, Glorfindel grudgingly accepted that he had been rebuffed and retreated to re-plan his strategy.

****

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He could not help but watch him from afar though.

He willingly admitted himself entranced, but the more he watched Erestor, the more he came to see the compassionate, intelligent Elf that lay behind the cold façade. He watched when Gil-galad and Elrond took especial notice of Erestor, how they tried to liven the younger Elf up a bit. He had seen the counsellor's temper firsthand, knew that a fiery soul lay hidden behind a more demure cage. He watched the way Erestor rebuffed anyone ere they approached him with his cold demeanour, saw how solitary the advisor's private life was.

But one day, he saw something that made his heart ache strangely and also warned him that his fascination with the darkling counsellor was not as superficial as he had once thought it to be.

Clutching the estimates for the new armour in one hand, he had softly rapped on the door to Erestor's office. Upon receiving no answer, he carefully opened it and stuck his head in, planning to leave it on the counsellor's desk.

However, the advisor was not absent. As Glorfindel gaped, he saw that Erestor was fast asleep on the desk, shadowed circles under his eyes speaking of exhaustion. The silky hair was splayed across the desk and Erestor was slumped over a ledger book of some sort. The awkwardness of the position made Glorfindel wince just to look at him.

But 'twas not the unusual situation to find the advisor in, or the startling vulnerability that was shown when he slept, but the clear distress that Erestor was in that held the Elda's attention.

Glazed dark eyes moved restlessly, and his skin was paler than was healthy, mumbled words of distress and dismay left the advisor's lips, and an event happened that seldom ever happened to Glorfindel in his life. He did not know what he should do.

The reserved counsellor would surely not like anyone, especially him, witnessing him in such a state. And yet, he could not in good conscience allow him to continue in his nightmare, and not do anything to stop anybody else from walking in on the other Elf's distress.

He crossed to the Elf, having decided to wake him, but he could not resist brushing away a stray lock of raven hair from the advisor's face.

A soft cough from behind him made him jump and then spin around to face the new arrival.

Elrond Peredhel stood there, one dark eyebrow raised, taking in the scene before him. His brow furrowed with concern as he noted his shy friend's distress and his sharp gaze flew to Glorfindel, who rushed to explain himself.

"I came here to give him the estimates," he said, holding up the paper, "I got no answer, so I took a peek. He was like this when I came in. I did not know whether to wake him or not."

"Erestor would not be pleased to find you here," Elrond said quietly, closing the door softly behind him, "His opinion of your behaviour is not very high at the moment."

"I know," Glorfindel said, shaking his head, "I did deduce that from his frosty silences and his glares. His tongue was a bit sharp as well."

Elrond's lips twitched, "I believe Gil-galad has placed a bet on how long you shall last." he said with amusement, "Tell me, when was the last time the servants actually granted a request of yours?"

Glorfindel grimaced, "Last week, I think," he said, "Does Erestor keep a grudge long?"

"Oh, it should not take more than a few centuries to wear him down," Elrond said, enjoying tormenting the Balrog slayer, "No more than that I should think. But you had better go now; I shall take care of Erestor."

And so, although he would have preferred to stay, Glorfindel acquiesced and with one last look at the sleeping advisor, he left.

****

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Having seen the counsellor have a nightmare seemed to have broken down a barrier within Glorfindel. He was less wary of the rapier of a tongue that the counsellor wielded and with that realisation came the knowledge that he would like to know the counsellor better.

And so, having decided to make a move, he bided his time impatiently. And his chance came at the next ball the King held.

He made sure that he looked resplendent, dressing in sea blue and grey. And ignoring all of the more than willing partners that sought to occupy his attention, he searched the room for Erestor.

He got the feeling that Elrond knew something of what was going on in his mind, and it seemed that the herald was not certain as to what he made of it yet. But that grey gaze did follow him quite often. If he had to guess, he would say that Elrond was wary of his motives and he could understand that, since any of the relationships with his bed partners since coming to Lindon had been fleeting dalliances at best.

However, he suspected that Elrond would withhold judgement until he could more clearly see Glorfindel's motives. However, as he did not seem to be making any attempts to foil the Elda's plans, he refused to worry about it now.

Spotting the object of his search skulking in a corner, he sighed. Trust Erestor to pick the most shadowed spot in the entire room, and clad in dark colours as he was, he was very hard to see unless you were looking for him specifically.

Sidling up to the advisor, he did not waver under the force of that cool gaze that tried to deter him from approaching. And seeing that there was only one entrance to this little nook, his larger body blocked the way out nicely.

"Good evening, my Lord Counsellor," Glorfindel said brightly, ignoring the clearly uncomfortable stance of the other Elf.

"Are you intending to make another spectacle of yourself, Lord Glorfindel?" Erestor replied, stonily refusing to match Glorfindel's smile. "Or do you just wish to annoy me?"

Glorfindel placed a hand over his heart, "You wound me with your harsh words, counsellor - may I call you Erestor- Ah, good. Surely you will not maim an Elf who only wishes to get to know you?"

Erestor's eyes narrowed and took on a wary tone, "And why would you want to get to know me?" he demanded.

"Why, because you intrigue me, Erestor," Glorfindel answered sincerely, "And I have to admit that I much desire some stimulating conversation."

"I care not for your social habits, Lord Glorfindel," Erestor said without infliction, "Please find another Elf to bother, or let me by."

"But where is the fun in that?" Glorfindel said, going so far as to lay a hand on the advisor's arm, ignoring the way that the other Elf stiffened, "I am not jesting with you, Erestor. I do wish to get to know you. And as we are working together now, it cannot but help our working relationship as well. What say you, Erestor?"

"Leave me pass!" Erestor demanded, feeling the first stirrings of panic within him. He hated being trapped, hated being confined.

"Not until you agree to speak with me over dinner," Glorfindel coaxed with what he hoped was a winning smile.

But he was not prepared for the reaction of the counsellor, who pulled away from his arm and rushed past him, not stopping until he had gone out a side door from the ballroom.

From across the room, grey eyes watched him disapprovingly.

****

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The day after, Glorfindel still could not shake the sight of Erestor's panic filled eyes from his mind. He did not like thinking that he had caused that emotion in the smaller Elf. And he did not have a clue as to how he could have caused it. 'Twas bad enough that Erestor had seemed oblivious to his advances but to think that he had actually frightened the other Elf….

And so, worry and curiosity niggling at him, he sought the advice of the one who seemed to have witnessed the scene.

Elrond did not seem overly surprised when Glorfindel asked for a private audience with him. And shooing his aide out, he gestured for Glorfindel to take a seat.

"What do you wish of me, Glorfindel?" he asked softly, grey eyes intense and knowing.

"I think you know why I am here," Glorfindel said, sitting down on the plush chair, and leaning forward earnestly, "I think you saw what passed between me and Counsellor Erestor last night. He seemed frightened to my eyes, and I know not what I did to cause that. I never thought him an Elf easily frightened and yet his dreams torment him and he panics in my presence. I wonder why I frighten him so."

Elrond sighed, and folded his arms, looking very much like his grandfather Tuor in that moment, "I do not think that it was you, mellon," he said softly, but Glorfindel perked up at his words, "Erestor has led a hard life," he continued, choosing his words carefully, "He does not socialise well. And he likes being confined even less."

"So when I cornered him, literally, he panicked?" Glorfindel said aloud, trying to make sense of it, "I do not understand. I wish to befriend him Elrond, but I do not know why he is so reticent towards company. I should not be speaking of a private matter so forwardly like this, but I do have feelings for him. To what extent and depth they are, I cannot say yet, for I know little of Erestor save what he shows to everyone. But I would like the opportunity to get to know him better. Please tell me what ails him. Please…"

Elrond eyed the balrog slayer carefully, seeing the sincere expression in azure eyes, and for his part, he judged his intentions to be true. But Erestor's past was such a delicate matter… Though as he looked at Glorfindel, he felt his own foresight taking him. This Elf was to be important to Erestor… that much he could tell. He could not say to what extent, but in hopes for both his friends' happiness, he had to give Glorfindel a fighting chance.

Reluctantly, he began to speak, and Glorfindel listened with a rapt expression, "Erestor grew up in Arvernien. Well, he spent the first part of his childhood there anyway. His father was a Noldo, from Nargothrond and his mother, a refugee from Doriath. His mother was scarred by the Kinslayings and though she married his father, she grew to resent him for what the sons of Fëanor did, though he had no part in any of their deeds. And when Erestor was born, she resented him too. She still loved them both dearly; she could not do otherwise. But there was always a wariness between them, for she feared the Noldorin ambition would awaken in her husband or her son, and Erestor's father was too hurt by it to make up for the distance it caused with his son. Their life was a peaceful one until the Fëanoriath came to Arvernien, and began another Kinslaying. Erestor's father fell first, to the swords of the Fëanoriath, and his mother was killed by them too when she rushed to his side. Erestor witnessed both, I am afraid. And long has he blamed himself for something wholly out of his control."

Elrond paused, "Afterwards, he travelled to Balar. He was not the only orphaned child on the isle, I am sorry to say. He speaks only little of his time there, and then only if pressed, but I do know that his sharp wits and thirst for knowledge came to the attention of one of the lords, and they helped to get him a position in the palace where his intelligence would be recognised and rewarded. He has always been a quiet Elf, and he has never taken a lover. Gil-galad soon grew to value his counsel, as did I. He has never let go of his past however, and if something else happened to scar him so, he will not say. For my part, I believe something else did happen. However, I will not press him. But you have seen the dark dreams that haunt him. You have heard as much of his history as I am willing to tell you. If you desire to know anymore, then it is from Erestor that you must seek answers."

"I understand," Glorfindel replied, his mind spinning as he tried to repress the image of a young Erestor being forced to see his parents slain before his eyes.

"Think long and hard on whether you are committed to this course, Glorfindel," Elrond said softly, because he is not an Elf that will be befriended easily. And it will be a hard road. I will not see him hurt, captain."

Glorfindel nodded and stood, "I thank you for sharing this with me, and I assure you, if I do decide to pursue Erestor, it will be not be on a whim."

"That is all I can ask," Elrond replied. "But be gentle with him, Glorfindel o Los'lóriel…"

****

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In the safety of his rooms, Glorfindel pondered the knowledge that Elrond had bequeathed to him for a long time. And the moon had risen high in the sky ere he finished his deliberations.

Erestor had a past, and a dark one, yes. But he had never been so drawn to another person before and he would not let that pass by unmarked. Elrond had quietly warned him not to hurt Erestor, but that was the last thing that he wanted to do. If he admitted it to himself, what he wanted was more than a fling, but a real relationship. And perhaps more beyond that.

He knew that Erestor had more barriers and walls up than the walls of Gondolin, but he sensed that it would be well worth the effort. Never before had another Elf so easily entranced him, had found a way into his heart without trying at all, and Glorfindel wished to see where it could lead.

He had watched the beautiful advisor from the shadows and had seen him both weak and strong, and he wanted to see more. He wanted to know everything. This… desire to both protect and cherish baffled him, but it felt so good that he did not resent its presence.

Elrond had warned him not to pursue Erestor if he did not mean it.

But Glorfindel had scarcely meant anything more in his life.

However hard it would be to pull Erestor from the shadows into the light, he felt that it would be well worth it.

Erestor would be worth it.

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A/N: So? What do you think? Opinions please! Feedback is most welcome and appreciated! Please **READ **AND **REVIEW**!

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Elvish:

Meleth nín - my love

Meleth - love

Peredhel- Half-Elven

Mellon - friend

Fëanoriath - sons of Fëanor

Los'lóriel - golden flower

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Avernien - the city on the mouths of Sirion, where many of the survivors of Doriath, Nargothrond, and Gondolin dwelt. Was destroyed by the sons of Fëanor, who initiated a kinslaying and sacked the city.

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Doriath - An Elvish Kingdom in the First Age. Ruled by King Thingol Greycloak, husband to the Maia, Melian, and father to Lúthien Tinúviel. Melian wove a series of enchantments to form an impenetrable border to the realm called Melian's Girdle. Celeborn and Thranduil lived there in the First Age. Galadriel visited there. Was destroyed first by Dwarves, then by kinslayings.

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Ereinion - 'scion of Kings'. High King of the Noldor after Turgon's death. Also known by his épessë (surname) Gil-galad.

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Gil-galad - Last High King of the Noldor. King of Lindon.

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Gondolin - called the Hidden City or the Hidden Realm. Founded and ruled by Turgon, son of Fingolfin, in the First Age. Eventually destroyed by Morgoth.

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Tuor - Elrond's grandfather, father of Eärendil, husband to Idril. Son of Huor, a lord of the Edain in the first age. Was sent to Gondolin as a messenger by Ulmo, Lord of Waters, to warn its king, Turgon, that Morgoth would soon find his hidden stronghold. Turgon ignored the advice but Tuor stayed on in Gondolin, wed Idril Celebrindal, the King's daughter, and sired his son, Eärendil. He escaped in the fall of Gondolin, and left Middle Earth for the West with Idril on a ship. 'Tis said that he alone of all the Edain was granted the life of the Eldar, and chose to be numbered amongst the Noldor, whom he loved, and that he still dwells west of the Great Sea.

('·.¸('·.¸ ¸.·'´) ¸.·'´)  
«´¨ Asha D ¨»  
(¸.·'´(¸.·'´ '·.¸)' ·.¸)  
¸.·´  
( ·.¸  
·.¸ )  
¸.·)´  
(.·´  
.  
.


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